


Who We Find in the Dark

by espioc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alcohol, Betrayal, Dirty Deals, Frustration, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prowl is sick of Optimus Prime's shit, Secret Relationship, Semi-Slow Burn, War, someone who's in love who fully denies that hes in love but hes absolutely in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espioc/pseuds/espioc
Summary: Prowl is tired of Optimus Prime's attitude towards the seemingly never ending war. After venting his frustrations, Prowl finds himself an unusual ally in Swindle, who promises the end of the war...and maybe more.
Relationships: Prowl/Swindle
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	1. On A Dark Night I Saw

**Author's Note:**

> part of an art exchange with a friend. Hope you all enjoy! May get longer than its currently set up to be.

Prowl gripped the datapad in both hands, listening to his leader prattle on about the humans, and the Autobot’s next strategy. How hard they had to work to keep the humans safe. How careful they had to be to keep collateral damage down. How cautious they had to stay to keep the humans calm.

Humans  
Humans  
Humans

Prowl slapped his datapad on the table and started flipping through it. All of his plans, all of his suggestions, had continually been glossed over. On Cybertron this was hardly an issue. It seemed, somehow, that Optimus Prime cared less about the casualties of his own people than damaging these fragile humans.

Prowl had no qualms with different species, not humans especially. The Autobots did have humans to thank for some level of influence, protection, and weapons, and even the occasional ally against the Decepticons.

But Prowl was not fighting this war for the humans.

This planet was a temporary home until the war was over and they could return to Cybertron.

Prowl still dreamed about it from time to time. Laying in his berth in his apartment in his city, in Praxia. The clear sky above, and order below.

Prowl wanted that. Every single day he longed for it, and the only thing standing between him and the end of the war was, not the Decepticons, oh no.

But The Autobots hallowed leader.

Their spineless, human loving, planet abandoning-

Prowl shook the thoughts out of his head.

Occasionally he became fed up in his own mind, especially during meetings like this. Where Optimus Prime spoke, and all of his underlings were expected to listen. After this, Prowl would be pulled aside to discuss things on a deeper level, and he would advise Optimus to go in a direction he would not go.

Which was exactly what happened.

The meeting ended, the Autobots filed out, and Prowl remained seated, still looking over the plans he had spent hours concocting, which would ultimately fall on deaf ears.

Optimus sat at the head of the table, hands folded neatly together, eyes bright to attention.

“Do you have a report for me?” He asked.

Prowl swapped one datapad for another. “Decepticon raids have gone down 50% in the last month. I think it’s because of the success of our last mission. The information we got out of the coneheads was fundamental to our latest counter attack,” Prowl put the datapad down. “They, unfortunately, escaped soon after we got that information.” He swapped one datapad for another. “I have a few plans I’d like to go over with you. We have the man-power, and considering there hasn’t been a raid in almost two weeks, we can assume the Decepticons are licking their wounds. Probably weak, low on moral, seeking energy. I propose we draw them out and stage a full assault.”

Optimus pulled his hands up to his chin and furrowed his brow. He hummed. “Where would the attack take place?”

Prowl scrolled through his notes. “I assume we would be able to use one of the human’s oil mills, or something similar. I was also thinking we could set up a fake lure on a military base so we had backup.”

Optimus hummed, his brow dipping furthur. “Have you taken human casualties into account?”

Prowl had. He had taken everything into account, he always did. He cleared his throat, adjusting the datapads in front of him. “Yes,” his brow quirked. “There are often casualties in war.”

Optimus sat forward. “Understand, Prowl. These humans did not ask for this. I am reluctant to bring them into it at every turn.”

“Then why ally ourselves with them at all?”

Optimus narrowed his eyes. “They have given us nothing but open arms-”

“And we brought a war to their planet. Something they knew when we became allies. If they didn't want to be in the middle of it then they should have kicked us out.”

“Enough.” Optimus removed his hands from below his chin. “Give me a percentage.”

“Of the humans? Or your own people.”

“Both.”

Prowl took a deep vent. “My calculations put us at 15%, give or take. If the Decepticons come out swinging, it may go up. But if they’re as I expect, that number will go down. Considering our current manpower, and the additional power of the humans heavy artillery, we should be able to deal a final, or nearly final blow to the Decepticons.”

Optimus took a deep vent. “Give me what you have. I’ll look it over.”

Prowl stood with Optimus and crossed the room, datapad outstretched. Just as soon as Optimus’ finger brushed the datapad, Prowl pulled it away.

“Prowl?”

“Are you going to file it away with the rest of them?”

“What?”

“With the rest of them. With every effective plan I’ve ever given you.”

Optimus shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous. I’ll look it over.”

“You’ll look it over, and then you won’t do anything about it.”

Optimus snatched the datapad out of his hand. “I think you need some rest,” he rumbled. “You’re dismissed for the rest of the evening.”

Prowl sneered. “I didn’t get into this war to do nothing,” he growled.

“You are dismissed, Prowl.”

“Or protect the humans. I’m fighting for us, Optimus!”

“You are dismissed, soldier!”

Prowl drew back. He grabbed the datapad out of Optimus’ hand and stormed out. Prowl didn’t return to his quarters, he didn’t go to the wreck room, or to grab a cube in the mess. He shouldered past any stray Autobot and headed for the main hangar. The night was deep when Prowl took to the road.

He drove as fast as he could, whipping past the forest and the dimly lit homes in the distance. He drove until the sky became clear, and the path disappeared. Miles away from the Ark, where, he didn’t know where, he flipped into bipedal mode and started to scream.

He punched the closest tree, nearly sending it to the ground. He punched another tree, and another, and another.

“Well, someone’s unset.”

Prowl drew his gun and shot in the direction of the voice.

“Whoa!” A figure leaped out of the shadows.

Prowl placed his gun to the side of the bots head. The glint of purple light caught his attention.

“Swindle.”

“Heheh,” Swindle wore a crooked smirk. “You caught me. Now you can let me go.”

Prowl pressed the tip of his gun against Swindle’s head. “No.” He took a pair of handcuffs out of his subspace and put them on Swindle’s wrists.

Swindle squirmed. “Aren’t you quick,” he muttered out of the side of the mouth. “So where are we going, cop-bot? Back to the Ark?”

Prowl didn’t answer. He moved the gun to Swindle’s lower back and pushed him forward. “You run, I shoot.”

“Understood, cop-bot.”

They walked out of the clearing and onto the road.

“So we’re walking?” Swindle asked.

“Quiet.”

“Just saying. Seems like a pretty far walk for one guy and an Autobot.”

Prowl did not respond.

Swindle kept talking. “Ya know, if we run into any stray Decepticons on our long, long, long, walk back to the Ark, you’re a dead man.”

Prowl didn’t respond.

Swindle’s smile dropped. “Done talking, huh?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Alright.” The smile returned to his lip. “Guess it’s just me then. Listen, Bluestreak- that’s the name, right?- Listen Bluestreak, I’m sure we could work out a deal, you and I.”

“I don’t make deals with Decepticons.”

Swindle spun around and started walking backwards. “Good thing I’m not officially affiliated then.”

“You’re a member of the Combaticons, who are Decepticons.”

Swindle shrugged. “Eh, only on the weekends. Listen, Bluey-”

“Prowl.”

“Listen Prowl, don’t think I don’t know you’re deal. So how about we make a deal, ey? Under the rug, you and I.”

Prowl sneered. “You think I’m stupid enough to make deals with a Decepticon?”

“To end the war? I think you’ll need to.”

Prowl’s hand loosened around his gun. He quickly adjusted his grip. “What can you give me.”

“Information. A lot of information. I might play both sides occasionally, but that doesn’t mean I’m not one of the big guys. Like you said, I’m a Combaticon, which means I got the in. Megatron tells us to be somewhere, I’ll tell you where that is. Deal?”

“One team isn’t enough.”

“Then I’ll get the whole scoop, not a big deal. A couple drinks with some higher ups, and lips suddenly become a little more loose.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“All I have to do is aim for the seekers and I’ll have everything you need.”

“You’re not close enough to Starscream, don’t play me.”

Swindle shook his head. “Oh, no no no. I’m not talking big-bad, Screamer drinks by himself, and between you and me he’s not a talkative drunk. No, I’m talking about the rest of the seekers. Command trine even. They live in big barrics and buy enough engex from me to intoxicate a city.”

Prowl narrowed his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Does it matter?”

“If it’s fluff to save your aft.”

Swindle shrugged. “What can I say? I wanna save my aft. But I also like making money, and frankly this war is starting to drag.”

Prowl sneered. The war had started to drag a long time ago. “All right.” He didn’t lower the gun. “But I want some insurance.”

“Collateral,” Swindle shrugged. “Fair enough.” He wagged his elbows. “Take off the cuffs and I’ll give you something.”

“You think I’m gonna set you free just like that?”

“Hey, you’re still the one holding the gun. I believe it when you say you’ll shoot me.”

Prowl’s lip hardened into a taut line. With the gun still pressed to Swindle’s back, Prowl undid the cuffs.

“Whew,” Swindle brought his hands around and rubbed his wrists. He put his hands up. “Alright, Prowl, now I’m gonna reach into my subspace. Don’t shoot me.”

Prowl readied his weapon.

Swindle reached into his subspace and pulled something out. He held whatever it was over his shoulder. “For you.”

Prowl took the object and inspected it.

A Decepticon badge.

Swindle turned around.

Prowl sneered. “Is this a joke.”

Swindle frowned. “Hey, listen,” he put his finger on the badge. “This thing was forged from my very own spark chamber.”

Prowl closed the badge in his fist. “It’ll do.”

“Glad to hear it. Now give me your comm frequency.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dirty deals don’t work if I can’t contact you.”

“I’m not going to get private messages from a Decepticon.” Prowl glanced off to one side. “But-” he reached into his subspace and pulled out a communicator. “You can use this. It’s a secure line.”

Swindle smiled, tucking the communicator in his subspace. “Looking forward to doing business with you,” he held out his hand.

Prowl stared at it.

“This is a deal,” Swindle said. “You have to shake my hand.”

Prowl cocked a brow. He put out the hand not holding the gun, forcing Swindle to switch hands. Swindle’s grip was firm. He gave Prowl’s hand one sturdy shake and let go.

Swindle took a step back. He gave a halfhearted salute with two fingers. “Well, it was fun. I’ll call you.” He jumped into his vehicle mode and drove in the opposite direction.

Prowl remained where he was.

His palm tingled.

Prowl took a deep vent and stowed his gun. Something buzzed in his subspace. He pulled out the communicator opposite the one he’d given Swindle.

_“One-two, one-two. You there Prowler?”_

Prowl pressed the button to respond. “I’m here.”

_“Just makin’ sure you’re not pulling a fast one on me.”_

“Of the two of us, I’m not the one I’m worried about.”

Swindle laughed. _“What? You don’t trust me?”_

“Are you driving?”

Prowl swallowed his insults. Not that Swindle would care. The deal had been struck, there was no going back now.

_“I may be. I’ll let you go, just wanted to make sure your equipment was working.”_

Swindle cut the line. Prowl put the communicator back in his pocket and hit the road. When he got back to the Ark he had to type in the override code to get the door open. By now everyone was tucked away in their rooms, probably recharging, possibly laying awake staring at the ceiling.

Prowl closed the door and re-activated the security system once he was inside. He let out a long vent, rubbing his hand down his face. A glint of light caught the corner of his eye. A buzzing followed.

Prowl removed his hand from his face and looked around. The Ark was dark.

Except for the room with the lights on.

Prowl walked towards the light. The Ark was big, but it was only so big. None of the habsuits had windows, most of the labs were closed and locked during the night so no one stepped on anyone’s toes. Lab space was limited, almost to the point where the scientists had to reserve their spots.

Prowl pushed on the unlocked door and let it swing open.

A welder spat sparks over the workbench and working mech’s shoulders.

Prowl squared his shoulders. “The labs are closed,” he boomed.

The mech jumped, throwing a line of fire across the wall in front of him. He turned off the welder and took off his mask.

“Prowl,” Wheeljack said. “You scared me.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“I thought you were in bed.”

“You were wrong.” Prowl moved aside. “Come on, the labs are closed.”

Wheeljack took off his mask and put his welder down. “Prime’s got me on a special project. I didn’t get any lab time today.” He slipped off his stool and turned out the main light. “Didn’t think I’d get caught.”

A sudden weight carried Prowl’s spark into his stomach.

“This is a deal...you have to shake my hand.”

“Prowl?”

Prowl blinked out of his trance. “Huh?”

Wheeljack leaned over to get a better look at his face. “You okay there, buddy?”

Prowl stared at his fellow Autobot for a silent moment.

“Yes,” he closed and locked the laboratory door. “I’m fine.”


	2. A Figure in the Trees

Prowl was in the middle of a meeting when the communicator in his subspace went off. He ignored it at first, passing it off as a stray message. In the week since he’d made the deal with Swindle, Prowl had been occasionally bombarded with random pings from his cohort. Mostly they were silly calls, to say hi, make sure Prowl was still in, and dangle the idea of betrayal above his head.

Prowl was tempted to turn the communicator off, but that wasn’t an option.

He had not sold part of his moral soul for nothing.

Whatever Swindle had to give him, Prowl would get.

Optimus dismissed the meeting. Instead of sticking around, Prowl stood straight from his seat and scurried to the door, ignoring the calls of his leader at his back. Prowl snuck to his quarters, tucked himself into the tight washroom, and brought out the communicator. There were two missed messages. Prowl pressed the button and spoke into the receiver.

“One-two, one-two, what do you want.”

Static came before the voice.

_“Finally, I’ve been calling you all day.”_

“You are not my number one priority.”

 _“Whatever. Listen, I got a drive. You want it, meet me at these coordinates.”_ The numbers popped up on screen.

Prowl furrowed his brow. “I’m not an idiot.”

_“Didn’t take you for one.”_

“How do I know this isn’t a trap.”

_“I’m pretty sure you don’t want me knocking on your door. Unless you do-”_

“Fine.” Prowl released the call button and let out a sigh. “I’ll be there.”

_“Great. See ya then, Prowler.”_

Prowl cut the line. He tucked the communicator back in his subspace and leaned against the wall. The nozzle for the shower stared him right in the face. Prowl growled to himself, rubbing the ache from his optics with the balls of his hands.

Swindle had coordinates, a time, and a date. Prowl took the communicator out of his subspace and stared at the numbers, his eyes narrowing into thin slits, his lip sneering up to his nose. He shoved the communicator under his windshield and stormed out of the washroom.

Five hours from then he’d be at the rendezvous point. But before that he would play the game he always played.

Prowl made his way to the command center where Optimus Prime was nowhere to be found. A couple of bots stared with dull optics at the video feed from outside the ship. Prowl strode to the center console and addressed Teletraan-1.

“Give me updates on current recon parties.”

Teletraan-1 brought up the roster for that day. Team Four was supposed to go out one hour before Prowl’s meeting with Swindle. The area wasn’t necessarily close, but it was close enough. Prowl took control and adjusted the layout, switching Team Four’s old perimeter with his own. When he was done he put everything back into place and left to carry out the rest of his duties.

Still, Optimus was nowhere to be found.

Not that Prowl needed him.

There was a quarrel with the scientists on the lower level. Perceptor, Skyfire, Wheeljack, and Ratchet were gathered in the too-small hangar space just beside the laboratory.

Prowl observed for a moment.

Wheeljack was arguing with Perceptor over the use of the lab. How Perceptor had taken almost all of the work tables for himself the past week, and Wheeljack was supposed to present his new weapon to Prime in less than a day.

“I already told you, there’s plenty of room for both of us.” Perceptor argued.

“No. Not if Skyfire wants to use his space. And Ratchet wants to use his.”

“Ratchet barely uses the lab!”

“He has to right now!”

Prowl approached the group. “Is there a problem?” He asked, wearing a half frown.

“Yes,” Wheeljack said. “Perceptor is hogging the lab space.”

Perceptor rolled his eyes. “As I’ve already said, there’s enough room for two of us.”

“But not all of us. We all need the lab time.”

Prowl took a datapad out of his subspace that listed all of the current mandated projects. Flipping through it, he quickly found a solution. “There’s enough room for two of you to work comfortably without any danger.” He nodded to Wheeljack and Ratchet. “Wheeljack, Ratchet. Your projects take priority. I’m granting you both access to the lab today.”

“Oh, no,” Ratchet said, “There’s no way I’m working with Wheeljack. He’ll blow us all to bits.”

“I don’t see why you can’t work in the med bay,” Wheeljack argued.

“That’s for patients. Not science experiments.”

Perceptor put in his two cents. “Why don’t I take your projects for now, Ratchet? I’ll postpone my own. You don’t like working in the lab anyways.”

Prowl looked between them all. “If that’s alright with you, then it’s fine. No personal projects, Perceptor.”

“Of course not,” Perceptor said. “I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Fine. It’s settled then. Wheeljack,” Prowl pointed to Wheeljack. “No explosions.”

Wheeljack saluted. “No promises.”

Prowl walked away from the feud with a few extra thoughts. On Cybertron all of the scientists had their own labs. Home labs, work labs, military labs. Space had never been an issue. He brought up statistics on his datapad, records of productivity from the science and weapons department. Productivity had gone down significantly since Optimus Prime banned lab work in the habsuites. Unfortunately, that had all been Wheeljack’s fault.

Still, the Ark wasn’t in great shape. Neither were the soldiers. Were there many of them? Yes. Did they have the proper materials to keep themselves ahead? Not necessarily. If the Decepticons came out swinging and the Autobots were too far behind in their weapons development, then they would be on the losing end of the war in no time. Stuck in a nearly obsolete ship with little remaining workspace was far from ideal, especially at this critical point.

Prowl drew up a loose plan for redevelopment and took it to Optimus’ office.

Optimus was sitting at his desk looking over a mountain of datapads, reading each briefly before placing it in the next pile. The door was open when Prowl arrived, so he knocked on the doorframe.

Optimus looked up from his work. “Ah. Prowl,” he put the datapad down. “I missed you after the meeting.”

“I had something to take care of,” Prowl stepped further into the room.

“I hope everything is alright.”

“It’s fine. The Scientists were having a tiff over the labs again.” Prowl presented his rough proposal. “Which is part of the reason I’m here. I think we’d benefit greatly from a new lab space.”

Optimus took the datapad and read it over, even turning to the next page. When he was finished he handed it back. “I would agree,” he said, sitting forward. “But I’m afraid we just don’t have the materials.”

“I thought we could ask our human allies for help with that."

“That much material is a lot to ask from one governing body.”

“We would need another hangar. Humans build them all of the time.”

Optimus’ fingertips tapped the table. “I’ll bring the proposal to our delegates and have them take a look at it. Feel free to send me the final copy once you’ve finished it.”

Prowl squeezed the datapad in both hands. “Yes, sir.”

As Prowl walked out of the office, a temptation pulled at his spark. To turn around, storm through that office, shove all of those useless datapads off of the desk, and throw his plan in Optimus Prime’s face. Force him to look at it until it clicked that this was the best course of action.

Prowl walked down the hallway with his doorwings at full height and a frown contorting his face. He stared at the floor as he walked, clutching the dismissed datapad at his side. For a moment he considered going to the mess hall. Getting himself a cube and brooding alone.

Instead he went to his room to do some paperwork before his rendezvous with Swindle.

A rendezvous with Swindle.

Prowl thought about it as he settled into his desk. Words he thought he’d never think about, a place he never imagined being. Yet, there he was, in a dirty deal with a Decepticon who played with both sides, who could just as easily be playing him.

After a few minutes Prowl realized he wouldn’t be getting any work done. He took the badge out of his subspace. Pointed, purple, the face of pure evil. Sitting in his hand like a mere trinket.

He tossed it in his desk drawer and locked it in.

* * *

Team Four had come up empty, at first annoyed and confused by the sudden change, but relieved that it was nothing but empty forest upon their return. As they came back, Prowl snuck out, slipping onto one of the back roads and following his GPS to the exact coordinates Swindle had given him. When the path became bustled with thick forest Prowl switched to walking on foot.

He came to a clearing decorated with a thin waterfall and a shallow pool.

A gun cocked beside his head.

“Ya know Prowl, I knew you were dirty. But I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to double cross me.”

Prowl elbowed the gun out of Swindle’s hand, grabbed his arm and held it behind his back. “I didn’t”

“Oh yeah? Then explain what all your friends were doing around here, huh?”

“Recon.”

Swindle struggled against the grip, speaking through his teeth. “I know you Autodolts don’t do recon in this area. I’ve been scoping it out for a week.”

Prowl let go. “I sent them here to make sure it wasn’t an ambush.”

Swindle rubbed his shoulder. “As if you’re valuable enough for an ambush.” He picked up his gun and stowed it.

“I’m second in command of the entire Autobot army.”

Swindle smirked. “Yeah? And what does that get you?”

Prowl held his tongue. Swindle started trudging through the water. Prowl didn’t move.

Swindle looked over his shoulder. “You coming?”

“Where?”

“You can’t do the exchange out in the open, in broad daylight. That’s bad business.”

Prowl looked around. “We’re alone.”

Swindle rolled his eyes. “Would you just come on.”

Prowl drew his weapon and followed Swindle across the pond, through the waterfall, and into the cave under the cliff.

“You can put your weapon away,” Swindle said. “You sure are a paranoid fragger, aren’t you?”

Prowl did not put his weapon away. “Okay, we’re inside. Where’s my information.”

Swindle nodded his head back and forth, turning around. “Cool your jets, cop-bot. I got the stuff.” He summoned a drive from his subspace. “A good businessman never fails to deliver.”

Prowl took the drive and examined it. “Sure,” he drawled, plugging the drive into the port on his arm. “But a good con-man does.” The data went through a series of virus killing firewalls before making it to Prowl’s core processor. All he got out of it was a few locations, potential targets for future raids, and one for-sure target that Devastator would be hitting in a week.

Prowl disconnected and put the drive in his subspace. “This isn’t enough.”

Swindle shrugged. “It’s what I’ve got.”

“Well, it isn’t enough. You told me you had the seekers.”

Swindle put his hands up in his defense. “And I thought I did. But my engex shipment’s been delayed. I haven’t been able to get anything to the base in over a week.”

“Just steal it from other Decepticons. You can’t tell me Megatron doesn’t have a secret stash somewhere on his ship.”

Swindle laughed. “Are you kidding? Listen, Prowler, maybe you can swipe a swig from your leader, but we can’t. Megatron isn’t someone you can sneak around. Well, unless you’re Starscream….Or Soundwave….or any of Soundwave’s little guys-”

“Swindle.”

“The point is that I don’t have the in like that. As soon as I get my shipment I’ll have enough info for you, but for now you’re just gonna have to wait.”

Prowl clenched his fists at his sides, staring at the cave wall. His tongue moved around his mouth before he spoke. “How much do you need?”

Swindle cocked a brow. “Fifty-five bottles. At least.”

“And how much info can you get me if you have more?”

Swindle nodded his head back and forth, taking a step forward. A smirk slipped onto his face. “I dunno,” he drawled. “How much are you offering?”

From here, Prowl could feel the soft heat radiating off of Swindle’s frame. Prowl lifted his hands to push him away, but instead stepped back. “Whatever I can. I’ll see what I can do and contact you at the end of the night.”

Swindle took a half step back, the smirk still on his face. His brow jumped. “Alright,” he agreed. “Guess I’ll be watching my comm.”

“We’ll meet here.”

Swindle didn’t respond, he just strode right past.

Prowl waited a few minutes before exiting the cave. As he made his way back to the base he watched the sky. This point was almost exactly halfway between the Autobot base and the Decepticon base. No one did recon in that area, it was hidden by a cliff and a waterfall and a forest.

Swindle did have a brain.

He certainly did when he sweet talked Prowl into this desperate deal.

Prowl returned to the base halfway on foot. Even when the roads became drivable he chose to walk, staring at the sky and the horizon. The planet they had taken as an outpost.

A home.

There was something to appreciate in Earth’s lush and diverse landscape. Sometimes, when the light bounced off the desert and the mountains rose in different colors in the distance, it reminded him of Cybertron. Their planet with all of its colors, light, and wonders.

Prowl banished the thought.

He returned to the base at a time when nothing was going on. There were no meetings, no briefings, nothing mandatory. People hung out in the rec room, chatted in the mess. A few bots shot in the range, others were already laid down for an afternoon nap or staring at their walls trying to banish images from their heads.

Prowl went to the mess and got himself a cube. He sat down at a table by himself and started writing down who he thought had the most engex.

**\- Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, definitely.**   
**\- Ratchet, potentially**   
**\- Optimus Prime**

Prowl crossed out Prime’s name. Even if he did have it, there was no way he’d hand it over willingly. Even to Prowl.

**\- Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, definitely**   
**\- Ratchet, potentially**

Prowl drew a blank. All he really had for sure was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Drinking among the Autobots was not prohibited, but it was far from encouraged. Everyone needed a drink once in a while, and they were allowed to have it. As long as they kept it quiet and away from upper command.

Prowl leaned back in his seat and groaned. He looked around the mess hall for anyone who might, potentially, have access to engex. Or at least know someone who does. Prowl grumbled, tapping his pen to his lip.

“Hey, Prowl.”

Prowl looked up and found Wheeljack sitting down.

“Mind if I sit?”

Prowl flicked his pen, going back to his work. “Go ahead.” He hunched over the nearly empty datapad, hands clutched to the top of his head.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Prowl sat up and started tapping his pen against the table. “I’m trying to make a plan.”

“For what?” Wheeljack pulled a tiny bottle out of his subspace and poured the contents into his half empty cube.

Prowl’s pen stopped moving. “What is that?"

Wheeljack froze. He descretely tucked the tiny bottle back in his subspace. “What's what?”

Prowl sat up straighter. “That. What you just did. What you poured into your drink.”

Wheeljack pulled in a vent as if he were about to speak, but didn’t say anything. He took the bottle out of his subspace. “Sorry,” he said, avoiding Prowl’s steely eyes. “Force of habit,” he put the tiny bottle of engex in the middle of the table. “You can confiscate it if you want.”

Prowl snatched the bottle off the table and inspected the label. “Do you have more?”

* * *

Standing in front of over sixty-six full sized bottles of engex was a strange feeling. As if a weight was simultaneously being lifted and placed on Prowl’s shoulders. He stood with his hands on his hips, examining the boxes laid on the floor before Wheeljack’s berth. Some of the bottles were open, half drinken, others were fresh, still sealed. None of it was nice or expensive, just basic engex for the sake of engex.

Wheeljack shifted from foot to foot. “It’s not all for me,” he prattled off, itching at his finial.

“I need sixty of the largest bottles.” Prowl said.

Wheeljack let out a long vent. “Sixty, really? That’s kind of a lot.”

Prowl cocked his head. “How about this. You let me take sixty of your largest bottles, and I don’t tell Prime about your drinking problem.”

“Uhhhh,” Wheeljack’s mask quickly opened and closed. He shrugged. “Sure. I can live with that.”

“Good,” Prowl squatted down and started sorting through the boxes.

Wheeljack was quick to pick out all of the unopened bottles that were on the larger side. As they put Prowl’s take aside, Prowl had a few thoughts. One being how he so looked forward to Swindle’s face when he actually presented him with sixty bottles of engex, and another being the potential explanation as to why Wheeljack was so prone to exploding.

“Ya know, I don’t have a drinking problem.” Wheeljack muttered, taking another bottle out of the box.

“It’s alright, Wheeljack. I’m sure you’re far from the only one.”

“I don’t anymore. I did. I don’t.”

“You put engex in your energon.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Wheeljack, we made our deal. You don’t have to defend yourself. And frankly, I don’t care.”

Wheeljack’s mouth snapped shut. They picked the rest of the bottles in silence. When they were done they stood up and looked at their load.

“So, uh, how are you gonna get it outta here?”

Prowl took the remaining bottles out of their boxes and started placing the boxes over the bottles like tops. There weren’t many boxes to spare, and by the end of it, he still had two bundles uncovered. Wheeljack took his blanket from the bed, tore it in two, and placed the halves, one over each bundle.

“Get a cart from the lab,” Prowl said.

Wheeljack did as he was told without question. Prowl was left alone in the small habsuite. He inspected the boxes in front of him. As a courtesy, he tucked the stray bottles back under Wheeljack’s desk. While knelt below the dented and stained work desk Prowl noticed there was an outline on the floor. A square hatch that fit almost perfectly between the legs of the desk.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Prowl sat up, smacking his head on the bottom of the desk. He crawled out from underneath. “Nothing.”

“I got yer cart.” Wheeljack halfheartedly gestured the flat cart by the door. “Might be a tight fit, though.”

“What is that,” Prowl asked, pointing to the hatch under the desk.

Wheeljack’s finials blinked. He didn’t answer right away. “Hatch,” he said with a shrug. “For hiding things. Like contraband.”

Prowl quirked a brow. “You have more contraband?”

Wheeljack brushed past him. “No,” he knelt down, opened the hatch, and started dropping the remaining bottle into the open space below. “Just this.”

Prowl narrowed his eyes but didn’t question further. Wheeljack helped him load the cart up, and kept the tower of boxes steady as they went down the hallway to the hangar.

“So, uh, what’s this all for anyways?” Wheeljack asked.

“I don’t ask you about your tunnel, you don’t ask me about this engex,” Prowl said.

Wheeljack’s mouth snapped shut.

“Or better yet,” Prowl said. “Anything. You don’t need to concern yourself with my business.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Works for me.”

By the time they reached the hangar the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. Wheeljack helped Prowl load up the engex and watched him drive away.

* * *

Prowl took a different road to their hiding spot, one that led him above the cliff, instead of the waterfall under it. From here he could sit in his vehicle mode and wait for Swindle to arrive. While being so out in the open wasn't ideal, the cliffside was still hidden well enough by the treetops that Prowl wasn’t too concerned.

In the hour that he was waiting, storm clouds rolled in. Wind whipped through the trees, sending a muffled white noise through the silent land. Prowl didn’t bother to turn on his windshield wipers when the rain started to pelt his chassis.

Someone slapped his roof.

“Hey Prowler,” a slippery voice called over the downpour. “Come here often.”

Prowl didn’t respond. He popped his trunk. Swindle went to the back and took all of the boxes out. When he was empty, Prowl transformed into his bipedal mode. He held one hand above his eyes to keep the rain off of his optics.

“That should be enough.”

Swindle squatted down and was counting the bottles. “Looks like it.” He said, standing up straight. “I’m surprised. Here I thought all you Autobots were goody-goodys.”

“When can I expect my information.”

“Damn, Prowl,” Swindle took a few steps forward. “Do you have to be so serious all the time.”

“I didn’t make this deal to make friends with you.” He took a small step back.

His heel found air, his foot slipped off the edge of the rock. For a moment he was floating, as if falling in slow motion. The rain a rattle in his ears, petting his cheek and fogging up his eyes. The grey sky above met him face to face.

Until something grabbed his hand.

And pulled his weight from the sky. Back up onto the cliffside, they rattled together.

Prowl opened his eyes and found a knee stabbing into his side, a pair of bright purple optics below his own. Prowl blinked. He pushed himself up on trembling arms. Swindle’s hands were still on his shoulders.

Swindle cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You-” he started to crawl out from underneath Prowl. “You should be more careful.”

Prowl sat back on his haunches, staring at Swindle.

Neither of them stood.

Neither of them moved.

The rain bounced off the rock. When it hit Prowl's armour it evaporated on contact.

His spark beat in his ears, thoughts racing through his head. With every new idea his vents became more and more sporadic.

"Why," he huffed, his shoulders rising and falling with his chest. "Why. Why! Tell me why!"

Swindle crawled backwards. He shook his head but didn't answer.

No one spoke.

A droplet traced Swindle’s face, water dripped off the edge of his nose onto barely parted lips.

Prowl stood up. "We should get out of the rain." He walked forward and extended his hand.

Swindle stared at the hand. After a moment he accepted it, and let Prowl pull him to his feet. Together they walked around the cliff edge and met the waterfall at the bottom, leaving the engex on the ledge above.

Inside the cave the sound of rain was overtaken by the waterfall spilling heavily onto the rock.

Prowl took them halfway down then sat against the wall. Swindle sat opposite him, a couple feet away.

For a while, not a word was shared.

"I don't get it." Prowl muttered.

Swindle didn't say anything.

"That fall would have hurt me. There's no one out here to-"

"Bad business."

Prowls neutral expression cracked. "That's slag-"

"What do you want me to say?" Swindle’s expression was steely, his optics bright.

Prowl sat back against the wall and didn't answer.

They sat there for half an hour, not a word between them.

Swindle sighed, adjusting himself against the wall.

Prowl looked at the entrance to the cave.

He could have left.

He could have left at any time. The rain didn't mean anything. It wasn't stopping him.

It was just rain.

Prowl stayed.

Swindle let out a long over dramatic sigh and took a bottle out of his subspace. Not a large bottle, average sized. He popped the cap and took a swig then offered it to Prowl.

"Want a sip?"

Prowl narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"

"Just engex."

Prowl accepted the bottle. His tanks flipped at the thought of high grade. It had been a while since he'd had a drink. He took a sip. The drink was bitter, made him cringe. Prowl gulped his sip down and tried to hand the bottle back. Swindle stood and sat down next to him. He took the bottle and took another swig.

"Sooo," Swindle said, rubbing the bottom of the bottle with his thumb. "Why haven't you left yet?"

Prowl took a deep vent.

He didn't answer.

Swindle nodded. "Yeah," he took another sip. "I don't know either." He pulled in a deep vent, hanging the bottle over his knee. "I have a question for you, Prowler." He shook his head. "Why did you take my deal?"

Prowls jaw clenched. "I want to end the war."

"Why?"

Prowl’s eyes went wide. He looked at Swindle. "What?"

Swindle shrugged. "Why? What's there for you?"

Prowl scoffed, staring at the wall. "That's a stupid question."

"When the war ends, if the war ends, and the Autobots win…" Swindle trailed off. He took another sip. "What's going to happen to us?"

"I won't make another deal."

"I don't want one."

Prowl stood up. "I'm leaving."

"You know what I think."

Prowl didn't turn around.

"I think you just want to kill Decepticons."

Prowl stopped short.

"But what did I ever do to you?"

Prowl's fists clenched at his sides.

"That's what I think," Swindle muttered, leaning back against the wall. "That's what I think before I kill somebody."

Prowl whipped around. "You are not innocent." He spat.

Swindle sat forward. "Neither are you." He sprung to his feet and stormed forward, getting right in Prowl's face. "You wanna know something, Prowl? You think I'm the bad guy? Well guess what. You're my bad guy." He poked Prowl in the chest. "Everyone thinks they're the good guy. You're not any better than me." He stepped away. "It takes two to make a deal."

Prowl squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. "I'm leaving," he said through his teeth. Before he could convince himself to stay he whipped around and disappeared into the rain.

* * *

Prowl laid in his berth staring at the ceiling.

Normally when he couldn't sleep he worked. But tonight he didn't feel like working. Swindle's words echoed endlessly through his head. There came a point when the words were muttered, but the voice stuck. All of the things Swindle had ever said wafted through Prowl’s thoughts. The smirk curled in his mind.

Prowl sat up. He put his hand on his chest to measure the sporadic spark beat.

He took a deep vent and let it out slowly as he laid back down.

The communicator on the bedside table buzzed.

Prowl closed his eyes and ignored it until the buzzing went away.

But just as soon as the noise stopped it started again. Prowl sighed, slapping his hand on the table, making a blind grab for the communicator. He brought it to his face and pressed the button. "What?"

_"I have what you want."_

"It's late."

_"I thought you'd want to know."_

Prowl rubbed his hand down his face. "When do we meet?"

_"Up to you."_

Prowl disconnected for a moment so he could think. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gave Swindle his answer. "Next week. Same day. We'll meet at sunset."

 _"Oooh, sunset,"_ the usual purr returned to Swindle's voice. _"Romantic."_

A weight hit Prowl in the chest. "Just be on time." He sputtered.

Swindle chuckled. _"Ey, ey, cop-bot. I'll be there."_

Prowl cut the line. He put both hands on his face and let out a long, muffled groan.

There was nothing there. Even as a mech who spoke so candidly, and was, frankly, pretty intelligent, Prowl forced himself to think there was nothing there. That this weight in his chest was just what guilt felt like, and those feelings were finally catching up to him now that he had this deal. That was it. There was nothing else there.

But everytime Prowl thought about his voice. The heat radiating off his frame every time he came too close.

The fantasy of nothing evaporated into something real.

Prowl sat up. He activated the lights and went to his desk to try and get some work done before morning. Under a pile of work he found the stray datapad with his proposal for laboratory improvements. With nothing better to do he wrote up a full report, including statistics on productivity with a proper lab environment and how, over time, it would serve them in the war. Even going so far to suggest that with these, frankly minimum improvements, they’d be on the right track to winning the war.

**To eliminating the Decepticons.**

Prowl looked at his own words for a long time.

He deleted the statement and replaced it.

**Bringing an end to the war.**

When the report was finished, people were beginning to rise for morning energon, early recon, and training. Prowl looked over his fifteen page proposal, cleaned it up, and sent it off for Optimus to look over.

Prowl sat back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. For a while he stayed there, staring at the wall.

Someone knocked on his door. “Prowl?”

“Come in.”

Wheeljack peeked his head in. “Meeting’s starting.”

Prowl stood up. “It’s not until seven.”

“Prime moved it up.”

Prowl collected his documents. “Thank you. Go on ahead.”

Wheeljack closed the door behind him. Prowl remained at his desk, staring at the pile of datapads in his hand. He sighed and stood up and made his way to the war room.

Optimus did most of the talking. Perceptor, Ratchet and Wheeljack gave updates on their projects. Jazz went over the success of their recon missions and all of the information they’d gathered off of stray contacts.

When it came time for Prowl to stand and give his report, Prowl hesitated.

He stared at the words on his datapads but didn’t read them. After a moment he put his datapad down and looked at Prime.

“I’ve been running some numbers,” Prowl spoke slowly, picking every word carefully. “And, by my calculations, the Decepticons are gearing up to hit another refinery. I took their last few raids into consideration and came up with three of the most probable locations. If my assumption is correct, they should be hitting in a week, with low man-power. An in and out job, strictly for fuel.”

Optimus nodded. “You’ll work with Jazz to station troops close to the most likely targets,” he pointed at Wheeljack. “I want that weapon on my desk by next week.”

The meeting wrapped up soon after that. Prowl, again, didn’t bother to stay and give Prime a full report. Instead he followed Wheeljack down the hall.

“Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

“The weapon you’re building, it’s meant to incapacitate the average bot.”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Scratch that. Make something that will at least incapacitate Devastator.”

“Devastator? But Prime said-”

“Never mind what Prime said. Make the weapon.”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “Uhh,” he nodded. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

“Good.” Prowl turned on a heel and returned to his quarters.

As soon as he was inside his stiff facade melted away and he found himself sitting against the door, a thousand thoughts and one voice filling his head.


	3. Who Looked in my Eyes

Over the course of the next month, Prowl successfully executed four interventions and one counter attack against the Decepticons, all using the information Swindle had given him. Swindle was sure to stay away from the action, and never gave Prowl information on places where he would be. This resulted in only one failed counter attack, which really could barely be counted as a failure, considering they did beat the Decepticons back, they just didn’t do it before the attack even started as they’d done the few times before.

All this time, Prowl was the one giving orders. Where Optimus told the Autobots to wait, Prowl stepped around him and took the initiative. The Autobots, while hesitant to listen at first, had their spirits and faith lifted after the first successful prevention.

Prowl no longer stuck around after war meetings, having realized a long time ago that they were more for show than progress. Instead, after such meetings, he went to rendezvous with Swindle under the waterfall. Their meetings had become much more frequent, and a lot longer than they had been at the beginning of this little escapade.

That’s all it was, though.

An escapade.

Prowl could no longer deny that there was something exhilarating about secretly meeting with his Decepticon contact.

Maybe it was the thought of winning the war, or something different. A new voice, not the same drones Prowl was accustomed to, and had conversed with for millions of years. There were times Prowl got tired of hearing his own voice, and he was certainly tired of Optimus’.

Prowl scrambled his comms, composed himself, gave a few orders, then snuck off into the wilderness. He didn’t have to call anymore. Sometimes Swindle would just be there, sitting against the cave wall, waiting, he would smirk that smirk of his and say. “Hey Prowler,” like he always did, and Prowl would feel something ignite in his chest which he just as quickly doused. The routine had fallen into just that, a routine, but it was still better than being surrounded by tacky orange walls and all the same faces.

Prowl transformed at the edge of the street and went the rest of the way on foot, entering from the waterfall side, not the cliff. He trudged through the shallow pool and parted the waterfall with his arm as he walked under it. There was Swindle, sitting against the wall, an open box of goodies resting by his knee and an open bottle of something bubbly in his hand. A closed bottle sat beside the knee where his free hand rested.

As soon as Prowl came into view, Swindle’s face lit up.

“Hey Prowler,” he said. “Wanna sit a spell?”

“This isn’t a social visit.” Prowl said as he sat down against the opposite wall.

“So you keep saying,” Swindle said, picking up the box of goodies. He held it out. “Got a new shipment this morning, Try one,” the slippery smile, which suddenly looked sweeter in Prowl’s mind, widened. “They’re copper. Pretty good stuff.”

Prowl reached forward and took one of the candies. He turned it between his fingers, studying the little square with a critical brow before popping it in his mouth.

Under normal circumstances, Prowl would never think himself dumb enough to accept food or drink from a 'Con. But these were not normal circumstances, and Swindle always ate one first to prove they weren’t poison. After a few boxes, Swindle didn’t have to do that anymore, not even with boxes that were opened.

As they sat there, chewing together, Prowl’s shoulders began to relax. The ever-present crease in his brow desisted, and his doorwings fell into a more comfortable, neutral position against the stone wall.

“So,” Prowl said, leaning over to accept the unopened bottle of soda. “What do you have for me today.”

“Eh, not much,” Swindle tossed a drive, Prowl caught it in the air. “Just a couple potential raids, they’re not even sure things. Megatron has been really paranoid lately. He’s ready to settle down and lick his wounds for a while.”

“And here I thought your leader was elusive.”

“We can tell how paranoid he’s getting by how loud he yells at Starscream.” Swindle chuckled at his own joke.

Prowl almost cracked a smile, but only gave his lip a twitch before forcing it to relent. He hid the smirk by taking a sip of the fizzy drink. Swindle told him that the cons didn’t need fizzy drinks, and they didn’t want them. All anyone wanted was high-grade, the tough stuff, which left Swindle with an accidental shipment of soda to drink for himself.

That’s what he claimed, anyways.

Prowl never paid much attention to his stories. Or at least, pretended not to.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and kicking the box of goodies back and forth.

There was something akin to luxury in that cave. Sweet things, a quiet place, a new face and a new voice, the hum of a waterfall. The space was dark, but it was better than the ark. More peaceful. Swindle always brought things to make it better, things that Prowl didn’t realize he wanted, like rust-sticks, sweets, drinks of all different kinds. Small luxuries.

Sometimes, when he sat there, staring at the wall beside Swindle’s head, Prowl felt a sear of guilt burn up his spine and he had to sit up and lean back to get the feeling to go away.

While his fellow, loyal Autobots, sat in the ark, there he was, sipping sweet things with a Decepticon.

More often than not, the feeling dissipated. While Prowl rarely took part in contraband, and was more often than not the one who confiscated it, he knew that the Autobots provided themselves with plenty of small luxuries such as this. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were the providers for the Autobots. Even Ratchet took part every once in a while, with a bottle of high grade or a rust stick or two. Optimus Prime himself did things he banned.

So when the sear of guilt crawled up Prowl’s spine, he doused it. Just as quickly as he doused the warmth in his chest every time he saw Swindle.

“So, how goes it with the Big Boss.”

Prowl blinked out of his thoughts. “What?”

“Optimus Prime. Still getting on your nerves?”

Right.

Swindle knew about that.

Prowl, in a rare moment of weakness, had let some of his qualms with Optimus slip, and Swindle had never forgotten.

“He remains the same,” Prowl said, then took a drink.

“But you seem to be doing fine.”

“I am doing fine without him.”

Swindle smirked. “Almost like you don’t even need him.”

 _I don’t_ , Prowl thought. But he didn’t say that. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Swindle leaned back. “No, of course you wouldn’t. The Autobots don’t have as many backstabbers in their ranks.”

“Or maybe we do but we’re just better at getting rid of them.”

“Now I seriously doubt that. Even Megatron can’t get himself to get rid of Screamer for good, and he’s a hundred times worse than any of the guys you have.”

“I’m sure Megatron doesn’t keep Starscream around for any reason other than he’s beneficial to the Decepticons.”

Swindle scoffed. “Yeah, when he actually does his job. That slagger sure can fly, I’ll give him that, but man does he whine.” He chuckled to himself. “I like to come out here, ya know, so I don’t have to listen to anyone’s grating voice. His especially.”

The warmth returned to Prowl’s chest, but this time he couldn’t douse it. No matter how much he clenched his jaw or thought about awful things.

All he could see was that damn smirk.

“Yeah,” Prowl muttered. The words came out before he could stop them. “Same here.” He took a sip of his drink before he could say more.

The smirk spread wide on Swindle’s face. He sat forward on his knees. “Oh, Prowler likes the sound of my voice, ey?” He chuckled.

Prowl scowled. “Not when you’re calling me at midnight to ‘chat.’ Then it’s as annoying as any other Decepticon.”

Swindle shifted onto his knees with a shrug. “What can I say? I get bored sitting in the barracks,” he sat back on his haunches. “No sleep there, I’ll tell ya that. Blast Off snores. Loud.”

“I always wondered how you snuck past.”

“Past what?”

“I just mean talking, late at night. I’d think it would wake someone up in the barracks.”

“Heh, yeah, no, not with Blast Off in their ears,” he readjusted so he was sitting cross legged again. “Nope, they all sleep like sparklings. It’s like I’m the only sane one.”

Considering the group in question, Prowl was inclined to agree. He nodded his head a little, if only to indicate that he had been listening. Swindle leaned back against the wall and chugged the rest of his soda.

“Well,” Swindle stood, tossing the bottle to the back of the cave with the rest. “It was fun, Prowler, but I better be heading back."

Prowl remained where he was. Swindle walked all the way to the waterfall before turning around. “See ya around,” he said, then parted the waterfall with his arm and disappeared behind it. His footsteps and motor were muffled by the falling water.

Prowl remained where he was, absently chewing at the lip of the bottle, staring straight ahead. Now he was lax, in body and mind, a mold melting into the mesh. A small sigh escaped between his lips, warming the bottle and the lip rested upon it. He put the bottle down and sat up a little straighter. The free hand was still limp in his lap, and didn’t seem keen to go anywhere anytime soon.

After a minute or so, he checked his comms for any incoming messages.

Nothing.

Good.

Being aloof had its perks. In this type of situation, specifically. If no one could find Prowl, they can safely assume he went off alone, and there wouldn’t be anything strange about that. He could probably sit there for an hour, and nobody would notice.

Yes.

Being aloof had its perks.

Prowl, after twenty more minutes of staring at the same spot on the wall, blinked out of his trance and stood up. He didn’t bother to wipe off the cave dust. When he went through the waterfall he came out clean, if not a little wet. But he dried well enough on the drive home that it wasn’t a problem.

When he arrived back at the base, no one was around to greet him. Everyone was either in the rec or in their rooms, two people were in the labs, but Prowl didn’t stick around long enough to see exactly who it was. He returned to his room, took the communicator out of his subspace, and sat down at his desk to get some work done.

As Prowl looked over his old proposals and new paperwork, a thought dawned on him. In the month since he’d spoken to Optimus about a new lab space, productivity had gone down even more in the research and development division. Skyfire almost never got any time in the lab because he normally had to work alone, Wheeljack had blown half the lab up two weeks ago, leaving it closed for clean-up and repairs for about a week, which meant that they were far behind, and in a bad place coming up to another potential Decepticon raid.

Prowl was hoping to get weapon upgrades and repairs, but those plans had been scrapped since the incident. If they had a larger space to work in, the entire lab wouldn’t have to be closed down everytime Wheeljack blew himself up. Not to mention the space for Skyfire.

Which is where Prowl’s idea sprung.

He reached for the communicator and pressed the call button. “Come in, come in,” he said.

He held the receiver by his mouth, waiting for a response. The communicator cracked to life

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I need something.”

“That’s clear as day.”

“Materials. I need materials to build a facility. Can you get them for me.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“How much.”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, tell me how much and I’ll let you know if I can do it.”

“I’ll write something up.” Prowl cut the line.

He returned to the work on his desk. Everything else got shoved aside, and he started making a plan for the facility of the scientists' dreams. One that was big enough for Syfire, efficient enough for Preceptor, and blast proof for Wheeljack. Then an idea dawned on him. They could build a facility with more than one lab space, that would solve all of the problems. It took more materials than the hangar idea he had originally planned, but it would be well worth the funds if Swindle could provide. Prowl did make up a different spreadsheet for a hangar-like lab space, should Swindle fail to deliver for the better specs.

By the time he finished, it was late in the evening, and his mind was buzzing. Despite the hour, he wasn’t tired, and an odd feeling of emptiness was beginning to creep into his spark chamber. In that moment, in that very rare moment, Prowl didn’t feel like being alone.

He stood from his chair and went out into the hallway. For a while he wandered. No one was in the rec room, no one in the mess. The labs were abandoned, as they should have been, and all of the lights were off under the doors of the rooms he passed, even Jazz’s. Though, that didn’t necessarily mean he was sleeping, knowing Jazz he was out doing his own special recon.

Prowl moved on.

He paused in front of one door. Shadows were moving under it, thick shadows that only barely let the light through.

Prowl stood in front of the door.

Wheeljack’s.

Just as soon as Prowl lifted his fist to knock, he heard a voice.

An unfamiliar voice.

Prowl knocked.

The shadow under the door stopped moving for a moment.

After a few more seconds, Wheeljack opened the door and crack and slid out. Prowl cocked a brow at him.

“Wheeljack.”

“Prowl.”

No one said anything for a moment.

“So, uh, what’s up? Kinda late.” Wheeljack said.

Prowl’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to say _I didn’t want to be alone_ , those were feelings no one but himself would ever be privy to.

“I wanted a drink.” He said instead.

Wheeljack puffed a small laugh. “What? Didn’t get enough already?” He chuckled at his own joke.

Prowl’s expression didn’t move.

Wheeljack’s chuckle died. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, okay.”

“Are you going to invite me in?”

“Uhhh-” Wheeljack’s finials blinked. His eyes brightened. “Yes,” he opened his door right up and let Prowl walk inside. As soon as he was in, Prowl took a good look around, scanning the room with his eyes. The sheets were messed, a bottle of high grade was already sitting on the bedside table, a used glass beside it, the chair of the desk was moved against the wall.

Wheeljack closed the door behind him. Prowl stood unmoving. He watched Wheeljack grab one glass out of his desk and took the high grade from the bedside table.

“You could take the whole bottle if ya want,” Wheeljack said, pouring one drink, which he handed off to Prowl.

“No, thank you,” Prowl said, the expression and tone neutral. He sucked down the high-grade in one go and held out his glass.

Wheeljack poured him another. “Don’t want to drink alone?”

“You’re not having any.”

“I told you, I don’t have a drinking problem anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t drink.”

“I don’t.”

Prowl took a quick glance at the used glass on the bedside table. “Okay.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“You can help me figure something out.”

“Sure,” Wheeljack shrugged, backing up to place the bottle down on his desk. “Whataya need?” He sat down in his desk chair and rolled forward, sitting casually in his chair as if he were conversing with a buddy.

“You’re surprisingly awake.”

“I don’t sleep well.”

Prowl took this drink slower. He took a seat on the end of the berth, matching Wheeljack’s lax posture.

“If I were to build a lab, a new one, what type of facilities are you in need of?”

Wheeljack puffed out of his mask. “Oh, all of ‘em. Chem lab, testing facilities, general work space. Somethin’ big enough for Skyfire.”

“Something blast proof for you.”

Wheeljack chuckled, tucking his feet under the chair as he leaned forward. “Didn’t know you could be funny.”

“I have my moments.” Prowl said this with no humor.

Wheeljack nodded. “Uh-huh.” He leaned back in his seat. “That’s all I got for ya. Basically, whatever you can think of, we need.”

“You helped build this ship.”

Wheejack gave him a curt nod. “I did.”

“Do you remember the amount of material you needed to build the present lab space.” Prowl felt fairly confident in his numbers, but having something to go off of would make his job significantly easier.

“Uhhh,” Wheeljack itched as his finial. “Vaguely.” He shook his head. “I mean, the lab space was just part of the general ship specs, so we got all the material we needed to build the ship, but they weren’t as specific with how much material outta that would be used to build the lab. It wasn’t separate, ya know?”

Prowl nodded. “All right,” he stood up, downed the rest of his drink, and placed the glass on the corner of the desk. “Thank you for the drink,” he turned towards the door. “If you figure out how much material you used, let me know.”

With that he took his leave, floating back through the empty ship to his empty habsuite.

As soon as he closed the door, a silence cooled the room.

Prowl stood for a moment, unmoving. The light at the desk barely touched the berth. Prowl shuffled across the room and stood between the desk and the berth. The chair was pulled out, facing him.

Prowl crawled into the berth.

As soon as his body hit the berthpad, he went limp. Asleep within seconds.

* * *

Swindle hummed, holding the datapad in one hand and rubbing his chin with the other.

“Well?” Prowl said.

“I’m thinking.”

“You’ve been thinking for ten minutes.”

Swindle lowered the datapad and turned his attention to Prowl. “So you don’t like watching me stand here?”

Prowl scoffed, rolling his head away so Swindle wouldn’t see the smirk that snuck onto the corner of his lip. Prowl fixed his expression and nodded to the datapad.

“So, can you do it?”

Swindle shrugged. “No.” He handed the datapad back. “Too much.”

“What about this one,” Prowl handed over the plan for the hangar.

Swindle slumped. “Ugh. You’re making me read even more?”

Prowl wagged the datapad. “Just look at it, stop whining.”

Swindle swiped the datapad out of his hand, gave it a quick one-over, then tossed it back. “Looks good. That, I can manage.”

“You’ll have to be discreet.”

“Prowler, don’t worry about it, I’ll have it handled. As long as you have my payment, I’ll have your stuff, to your specifications.”

“I’ll get you the money.”

“Great.”

“But get me a bill.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll write one up. Next time we meet up I’ll have a whole spreadsheet for ya, how about that?”

“That sounds acceptable.”

Swindle chuckled. “You always gotta be stiff, don’t you,” he huffed, the smile softening on his face. He shrugged. “But ya know, it’s just us here, Prowler.”

Prowl didn’t respond for a moment.

“I know.” He said. “And we are business partners.”

Swindle sighed, the smile never totally disappearing. “We sure are,” he muttered.

Prowl took a step towards the exit.

“That’s all?” Swindle asked.

Prowl stopped. Mist from the waterfall bounced onto his face, a drip formed at the edge of the nose.

Prowl looked over his shoulder. His fists clenched, the warmth snuck into his spark chamber. Through his teeth he spoke. “Yes,” and then he was gone.

Swindle remained, invisible behind the waterfall.

* * *

The next time they met, Prowl brought Shanix, as much as he had. It was more than enough to pay Swindle. As soon as the money was in Swindle’s hands, Prowl left, before his feet refused to carry him, before the warmth entered his chest, he left, storming back to the ark.

When he got there, he went to his room, took the communicator out of his subspace, and pulled the drawer open on his desk.

He froze, communicator poised over the open drawer.

A purple glint caught his eye, two silver eyes stared him right in the face.

Prowl took a deep vent, trying to banish the warmth in his spark, the burning sensation that pulled his hand forward, and grabbed the Decepticon badge. He rubbed his thumb over the well polished surface, and looked at the reflection of his own eyes.

In his other hand, he gripped the communicator in a tight fist.

He placed both objects in his subspace.

He closed the drawer and sat down at the desk.

For hours he sat there, just sat there, his elbows propped, his head leaning on his fists. The next time he checked the time, it was night.

He took the communicator out of his subspace, put his mouth to the receiver and pressed the button. “Come in, come in.”

The response as immediate. “Now you’re the one calling me.”

Prowl sat forward. “I think we should meet. Discuss things.”

Swindle let out a long sigh. “Sure,” he said in one quick breath. “I’ll see ya there.”

Prowl left the base with no eyes on him. He drove into the night, nearly going as fast as he could. Not the casual drive he normally took to their spot.

This reminded him of their first meeting.

Out in the middle of nowhere, dead of night, driving furiously down the backroads.

Prowl flipped into his bipedal mode at the edge of the woods and walked the rest of the way, taking wide strides, only slightly hindered by the water.

Swindle was already there, sitting against the wall.

“Hey Prowler,” he smiled. He gestured the three glowsticks standing on their ends in the ground. “Thought we would need some light.”

Prowl stepped further into the cave and came to sit in his usual spot across from Swindle.

“So I’m guessing you wanted to talk about being discreet.” Swindle said.

“Yes.”

“Well, I already have a plan, if you wanna hear it.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Swindle explained that the materials would be delivered by humans who he had an in with, and often delivered stuff to the shore for him for a small price. Apparently energon was a big ticket item on the black market, one cube was enough to pay a dozen human workers, maybe more. Swindle would get the materials from Shockwave on Cybertron, create a faux accident which will supposedly lose or destroy these materials, when in reality Swindle will hide them. His humans would come to a rendezvous point, pick everything up, and deliver them to the Autobots.

“That doesn’t work.” Prowl said.

Swindle’s smile dropped. “Why not?”

“Because my plan is to tell Optimus I got a private donor to supply the materials, but I can’t use that excuse if you give me Cybertronian materials.”

Swindle huffed. “Alright, fine. I’ll get you human stuff. But the quality will be significantly lower.”

Prowl cocked a brow. “So the money I gave you was for Cybertrinian materials.” His expression returned to neutral. “Then I want the materials for my better facility.”

“Now, hold on, hold on, hold on. You still don't have quite enough for everything you wanted.”

“Then I want as much as you can get me and I’ll plan from there.”

Swindle twisted his lip. “Alright, fine. Whatever you want.”

Prowl cracked a smile.

Swindle pulled back. “Oh my goodness!” He slapped his hand over his eyes and pushed his other hand out. “My eyes! He's smiling!”

Prowl chuckled despite himself. His mouth snapped shut, but the smile refused to leave. Swindle uncovered his face and started to chuckle. “Come on,” he said. “We’re allowed to joke now, I think.”

Prowl cleared his throat, forcing the smile to go away. “Yes, well,” he looked at anything but Swindle. “Maybe.”

Swindle smirked. “Now don’t loosen up on me too much, Prowler, next thing ya know your arm will fall off.”

Prowl cocked a brow, throwing Swindle a confused glance.

“It’s a joke,” Swindle explained. “Loosen up? Something falls off of you, ya get it?”

“You’re not very funny.”

“Oh, now, that’s rich coming from you.”

“I’m not trying.”

“Touche.”

Prowl cracked a smile. He immediately put his hand over his mouth.

“Come on, Prowler,” Swindle said, leaning forward. “You are allowed to smile.”

Prowl twisted his lip to get the expression off his face.

Swindle sighed, leaning back. “Okay.”

Not a word was shared between them for a while. The faint glow of the lightsticks steadily became softer. Prowl let the warmth in his chest linger, staring at the spot on the wall beside Swindle's head, only just catching the dim purple optics that stared off at nothing.

“I like this,” Swindle muttered, his face lulled against the wall, staring at the waterfall. There was no smirk on his face. No expression at all. “I like it a lot, actually.”

Prowl constricted his throat against the words that wanted to burst out of his mouth. “Which part?” He said.

Swindle did smile, but it was only brief. “If I said, being with you, what would you do?”

Prowl’s jaw clenched. He followed Swindle’s gaze to the waterfall.

“I’d say the same thing.”


	4. And Said

Prowl looked on proudly as the humans brought truck after truck of materials to the desert landscape. Optimus was gone on some press meet with the humans, which Prowl would usually attend as something of a PR person, but he opted out this time. Jazz took on the role and filled in for the day, leaving Prowl open to accept the shipment of materials courtesy of Swindle.

There were still some Autobots left in the Ark. Those who weren’t overly fond of public appearances and didn’t want to appease the humans as much as Prime did. Namely Ironhide, Brawn, Cliffjumper, Wheeljack and a few others who were further down the line and therefore slightly off of Prowl’s radar. Not that anyone was truly off of Prowl’s radar, he did make it his business to know everyone who ever became an Autobot. That didn’t mean he could summon every name at will.

After all of the materials were delivered, a building crew arrived. Prowl checked his chrono and calculated the exact amount of time they would need before Optimus Prime returned. Fortunately, Prowl had already formulated a plan to keep Optimus and the team away from the base for an additional twelve hours should the need arise. Although, Prowl considered going ahead and doing it anyways whether the need arose or not.

The facility was a regular looking hangar with a single land bridge leading into the ark. As much as it would have been easier to just make the hangar entirely separate, there were factors in place that made it ideal to have a doorway directly attached to the Ark. Unfortunately, blasting all the way through the mountain and cutting a large hole in the ark was outside of Prowl’s available funds. Both the lack of money, and lack of time, left him settling on the simple land bridge.

When the building was 75% finished, Optimus was set to return in 35 minutes. Which forced Prowl to use his backup plan to keep Optimus away from the base.

Prowl hopped on his communicator and hailed Optimus.

“Optimus, come in, Optimus.”

Optimus picked up immediately. “I’m here Prowl.”

“I’ve received reports of strange activity in the Northern Sector. Eye witness accounts lead me to believe that the Seekers might be causing trouble.”

The line cracked for a few seconds before Optimus Prime responded. “We’re on our way. Just send the coordinates to my hub.”

“Roger that.” Prowl used the datapad in his hand to send the faux coordinates. He quickly returned to overseeing the facility construction.

Despite how incompetent the humans seemed to be at most things, they were fairly reliable builders. The building was up and running in record time. As soon as the job was finished Prowl forked over the fifteen energon cubes which had been promised and made sure all of the workers were sent away accordingly.

In total the project took 15 hours, starting at eight in the morning when Optimus left and finishing up at around eleven at night. Prowl was thankful that Swindle had taken such good care of the material deliveries. Instead of ordering hundreds of separate pieces, he elected to order a pre-constructed frame that had been deconstructed, and needed nothing more than to be reconstructed. That was thinking ahead that even Prowl hadn’t done, and the mere thought of it made Prowl’s chest burst with the familiar, albeit most unwelcomed, warmth.

Of course, that was just the facility, now Prowl needed all the fixings. He considered getting in touch with a local college or research center to see if he could get the instruments donated. Sometimes the humans were generous enough to do something like that, though not as often lately.

The thought also struck him that Wheeljack and Perceptor and Skyfire could compose the materials themselves. Most of the things they needed were already in the old lab, things could be moved, or built or rebuilt for the new lab.

Prowl decided to leave the matter alone for now and let the science division figure it out for themselves. If that didn’t work, then Prowl would take the reigns. Until that happened, he decided it was a good time to call Swindle. Prowl wasn’t sure how much he actually cared about the outcome of a job after he got paid, but Prowl called him anyways.

Prowl snuck through the Ark and slipped into his room. He sat down at the desk and pulled the communicator out of his subspace.

“Come in, come in,” Prowl said into the receiver.

The communicator spit out static, then a voice. “I’m here.”

“When can we meet next?”

“Hmmmmm. I’m not sure. Big Boss and a few others are out right now and it looks like we might be called in soon.”

Prowl furrowed his brow. He fought with himself, trying to decide whether or not digging for information was worth it. “Where did they go?” He asked, because a large part of him was still a loyal Autobot.

Just not the part of him that talked to Swindle.

Swindle cackled, unphased by the question. “That’s a good one Prowler, but this shindig isn’t part of our arrangement. But don’t worry, no one will be getting hurt, not your Autobots or any of those little fleshies.”

Prowl felt an odd sort of tightness in his chest, this beside the warmth already accumulated. The idea that Swindle would want to reassure him that none of his men would be getting hurt was oddly comforting.

The worst part was that Prowl trusted it.

“Prowler? You still there?”

Prowl swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to speak. “I’m here,” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Just let me know when you’re available. We’ll rendezvous then.”

“Will do, Prowler. I’ll be seein’ ya.”

Prowl cut the line and tucked the communicator back in his subspace. He stared at his desk and shuffled through some datapads, searching for his next project. Before he could get to work, a loud, ear shattering scream shook the base. Prowl recognized the pitch immediately. He stormed from his room and headed for the entrance to the Ark, just in time to see Ironhide and a few others forcibly dragging Starscream out of Prime’s trailer.

His legs and wrists were tied, his wings bound. He struggled against the binds, snarling and screaming, trying to get at the ropes with his claws.

“You can’t do this you stupid Autobots,” he snarled. “I wasn’t even doing anything you rats!”

“Sure ya weren’t, Screamer,” Ironhide said, struggling against the ropes. “Now just come quietly, ya little snake.”

Starscream grabbed the rope Ironhide was holding and pulled back with so much force Ironhide got the wind knocked out of him by the edge of the trailer. He growled, regained his steps and pulled back, this time managing to get Starscream to the edge, but still not entirely out.

“Damn, you’re a lot stronger than ya look, Screamer.”

Prowl scowled. He pulled a pair of stasis cuffs off the wall and approached the trailer. He brushed right past Ironhide and the others, stepped into the trailer, and clasped the cuffs over Starscream’s scruffed wrists. Prowl quickly set the cuffs to ‘paralyze’ before Starscream could get a swipe in.

Starscream’s eyes went wide, right before he went entirely limp.

Prowl stepped out of the trailer. “Clean this mess up,” he spat. “And next time remember that we have stasis cuffs for a reason.”

Ironhide haphazardly dragged Starscream out of the trailer and let him flop to the ground. Prowl stuck around half a second more to see over the handling of the situation. By now most of the bots who had been holding the ropes had dissipated, citing that they would not help drag Starscream to the brig. That left Ironhide to look to the crowd that had gathered.

He nodded to Wheeljack.

“Jackie, help me drag this son of a bitch to the brig.”

Wheeljack’s finials blinked. He glanced at Prowl, then went over and grabbed Starscream’s other arm. Prowl stuck around a little bit longer to make sure the situation was properly resolved.

Of course, as soon as the mess was over, Optimus Prime emerged from wherever he had been.

“Prowl,” he said. “Do you know anything about the hanger that’s appeared outside?”

Prowl took the datapad out of his subspace, fully prepared for this question. “Yes. It was a gift from a generous donor.”

“For what purpose?”

“They thought we might need more space, I’m not entirely sure why.” He looked at Prime. “I thought we might be able to use it as a new research facility. I’m sure I’ve brought up the issues with our current facility.”

Optimus nodded. “I believe you have.” He hummed to himself. “Well, Prowl, I suppose you’ll get your wish afterall. Feel free to get a transport of materials from Cybertron for lab materials.”

Prowl gripped the datapad in both hands, his eyes briefly going wide. This was not the reaction he was expecting. Though, he supposed he couldn’t ask for anything better. Prime’s sudden encouragement made Cybertron accessible, solving Prowl’s former dilemma.

“I’ll get right on it, sir.”

Optimus gave him a stiff nod. He was about to turn and leave, but he paused.

“Oh, and Prowl.”

“Yes, sir?”

“As soon as you’re able, I want you to interrogate Starscream.”

Prowl’s jaw clenched. As much as he was all for bringing the Decepticon’s to justice, he couldn’t figure how they’d managed to run into Starscream while on their way to investigate a fake report.

“Was he the one causing trouble?” Prowl asked.

“Probably. We caught him on the way to the coordinates you sent. Strangely enough, he ran away.”

A switch went off in Prowl’s head. He scribbled something down on his datapad. “Does he need medical treatment?”

“He could. Send someone down to check.”

Prowl made another note. “I’ll see it’s all taken care of.” As soon as Optimus was gone, Prowl sent a comm to Ratchet requesting he give Starscream brief once over. Ratchet sent back that he would do it in the morning.

Knowing better than to bother Ratchet, Prowl let it slide and settled for the morning.

Prowl made another note on his datapad, reminding him that they had Starscream in the brig and he would need to be interrogated. Considering Starscream’s stubbornness and position within the Decepticons, it was unlikely anything would come of the interrogation. Not to mention the fact that Starscream was a notorious liar, which meant that anything Prowl did get out of him wasn’t even reliable.

Prowl returned to his room and put his datapad down. He sat down on the end of the bed and contemplated his next move. It was late, his project had gone down without a hitch, Swindle seemed busy.

Prowl stalled in his thoughts. Why would he care what Swindle was doing?

Without his permission, that warm feeling returned to his chest. It became so overwhelming Prowl’s throat went tight and his mouth went dry. He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and decided that sitting in his room alone was not helping his uneasy mind.

So he went to check on Starscream.

Usually if Starscream was awake he was yelling or screaming or throwing insults at the Autobots so nobody could forget that he was there and Optimus was quick to trade him back to Megatron.

But in this case it was late and Starscream had fought hard for his freedom, so Prowl wouldn’t be surprised if he was asleep. Really Prowl just had to make sure that Starscream had been taken out of his binds and properly transferred into the cell, otherwise Megatron might have a gall to accuse them of maltreatment.

Which would honestly be the most hypocritical thing Megatron could say in regards to Starscream, but Megatron was never averse to questioning Optimus Prime’s pedestal of righteousness.

The hallways were empty, most of the Ark dark and quiet. Everyone had since retired to their rooms, everyone either asleep or minding their own business.

Or at least, almost everyone.

Before Prowl reached the stairwell down to the brig, he spotted Wheeljack already at the door.

Prowl stopped right behind him. “Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack flinched and whipped around, holding something behind his back. “Prowl,” he said. “We really gotta stop meeting like this.”

Prowl raised a brow and tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

Wheeljack glanced at the door. “I forgot to take the stasis cuffs off.” He said, his frame steadily relaxing. “I was gonna go take them off.”

“Alone?”

Wheeljack shrugged. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I was going to check and make sure you removed the cuffs.”

Wheeljack’s finials blinked. “Alone?”

“I wasn’t going to take them off if they were still on.” Prowl walked forward. “But now we’re both here,” he opened the door. “So I suppose we can take the cuffs off.”

Wheeljack followed Prowl down to the brig. On the way to Starscream’s cell, all the way at the end of the hall, Prowl took a gun out of his subspace and handed it to Wheeljack.

“In case he pulls something,” Prowl said.

Wheeljack stared at the gun in his hands. “Right,” he gripped it in both hands before switching to holding it properly. “Okay.”

Prowl approached the cell and peered inside. Starscream was laying on his side, eyes dim, no expression on his face. Prowl opened up the cell, Wheeljack stepped into place.

Normally Prowl would link the cuff controls to his own system so he could take the cuffs off from outside the cell, but he had put them on in such haste he’d forgotten to do that. He approached carefully. It was difficult to decipher whether or not Starscream was calculating his next move since he was completely limp.

Prowl bent at the waist and grabbed the center of the cuffs. He kept a close eye on Starscream’s face and hands. As soon as the cuffs were undone Prowl prepared to take a step back, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Starscream’s hand shot out and grabbed Prowl by the neck. His head was slammed on the prison wall, filling his vision with static for a few seconds. The very tips of Starscream’s claws pierced the sensitive cables on Prowl’s neck. He heard Wheeljack’s voice.

“Starscream.”

Prowl couldn’t really see with his vision going in and out of static. Before he knew it, he was effortlessly thrown out of the cell. As soon as he was free, Wheeljack rushed to shut and lock the door.

“You alright?”

Prowl squinted, trying to get his vision to clear. He rubbed his sore neck and tried to sit up.

“Good thing we had a gun.”

Starscream sauntered to the bars, a smirk on his face. Prowl detected a slight limp.

“Yes,” Starscream purred. “Good thing.”

Wheeljack grabbed Prowl by the arm and helped him up. They both vacated before Starscrem had the chance to say more. As soon as they were clear, Wheeljack gave Prowl his gun back.

“I love defying death,” Wheeljack said. “And pointing guns at Decepticons. Especially this late at night.”

Prowl tucked his gun in his subspace. “Was that your attempt at a joke?”

“That depends, was it funny?”

Prowl turned on a heel. “Goodnight Wheeljack.”

“Yeah, okay...goodnight.”

Prowl returned to his room. He didn’t even look at the desk, he fell right into bed and closed his eyes.

Of course, as soon as he did this the communicator in his subspace began to buzz. Prowl took a deep vent and started to sit up. He looked at the message on screen and twisted his lip.

‘ _Ready when you are_ ’

Prowl weighed his options. Why had he called Swindle in the first place? To tell him about the hangar's success? Why did Prowl want to do that? Prowl had taken to examining all of his actions more deeply since he started this deal with Swindle. Yet, for whatever reason, no matter what conclusion he came to, Prowl didn’t want to stop seeing Swindle.

So when Prowl gathered his response, he said. _‘I will be there soon._ ’ and took off for their usual spot.

When Prowl arrived Swindle was sitting on the top of the hill above the waterfall. He sat with one leg dangling over the edge, his face to the sky. Prowl scaled the hill and came to stand behind him.

For a few minutes they didn’t say anything.

Prowl watched the sky with half the adamancy of Swindle, every once in a while glancing down to see if he had moved.

“Ya know, sometimes I stare at a star and pretend it’s Cybertron.”

Prowl’s foot shuffled forward, but he stopped himself from moving. He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept his tone neutral when he spoke. “You can see Cyberton through a telescope. Do the Decepticons not have telescopes.”

Swindle looked over his shoulder. He was smiling. “Taking jabs, ey?” He turned back to the sky. “Can’t tell me you don’t miss it too.”

“Of course I miss it,” Prowl said it before he could think. He wanted to stop there, but he kept going. He even sat down. “It was my home too.”

Swindle hummed. “Ya know, I might have built my business on this war stuff, but I gotta say-” he shook his head. “Prime and Megatron are real screw ups.”

Prowl scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“I’ve been reading a bit about this mud ball. Did you know these fleshies have had wars since the day they crawled out of the water?” Swindle grabbed a fistfull of dirt and let it fall through his fingers. “They have weapons that could destroy this whole place ten times over,” he clenched his fist. “But it’s still here. Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

Prowl had never thought about that much. He was aware that the humans fought endlessly, but he didn’t consider just how similar those conflicts were to his own. That war was war no matter what species took part in it.

“I don’t know,” Prowl said. “They are significantly smaller.”

“But proportionally, we’re the same size compared to our planet.”

“I guess.”

“We think the fleshies are so below us, but what have we done that makes us much better?”

Prowl looked at him. “Are you feeling philosophical tonight?”

Swindle chuckled. “I guess I must be,” he looked at Prowl. “What about you, huh? Why are we even out here,” he knocked their shoulders together. “Miss me?”

The warmth in Prowl’s chest rose to his face. He looked in the opposite direction. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Swindle leaned over slightly in an attempt to get a better look at Prowl’s face. “Looking pretty purple there, Prowler.”

Prowl squeezed his lips together and scrubbed one hand down his face. “It’s just cold out here,” he said.

“Ya know, Prowler, we could just stay here.”

Prowl didn’t respond, still partially hidden behind his hand.

Swindle spoke to the sky. “Just live in the cave. No one would ever bother us again.”

Prowl put his hand down and stared at Swindle for what felt like too long.

“No, we can’t do that,” Prowl said, but he was hardly committed to his own words. “That’s silly. That’s--”

“Ridiculous?” Swindle wore a crooked smirk.

Prowl put some bite into his tone. “Yes.”

Swindle just chuckled. “Well, anyways-” he kicked his feet and leaned back. “Why are we out here, Prowler? Problem with the product?”

Prowl sat up a little straighter. “No,” he suddenly felt stupid. The entire reason he’d done this was to thank Swindle for the product and tell him how well the plan had worked out. Prowl almost felt excited at this prospect, but another part of him felt ashamed. “It was perfect, actually.” He took a deep vent and fixed his expression back to neutral. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me for doing the job you paid me to do?”

Prowl frowned.

Swindle punched him in the arm. “I’m just teasing. No one ever thanks me, it’s nice every once in a while.” He wiggled his brow. “Especially coming from you.”

“I’m sure you get great satisfaction from being thanked by an Autobot.”

Swindle leaned away. “Sure,” he muttered. “That’s it.”

Prowl knew that wasn't it but he wasn't about to admit that to himself just yet. He swallowed any semblance of emotion and said, "We should get down to business."

"So you do have business?"

He did now. "I want to know about raids." He said.

Swindle pursed his lips. "Raids, huh? Hm. Well I'll have to think about that one."

Prowl shifted. "If you don't have the information now, we can always meet again tomorrow.*

"I don't know if we'll be having anymore until Megs gets his second back."

Right.

Prowl had almost completely forgotten about Starscream.

"He'll get him back," Prowl said. "He always does."

Swindle stood up. "Well, when he does, I'll call you." He bent over and saluted. "But it's late, I'm tired, and you seem to be in a mood, so I'm gonna tap out for the night."

Prowl twisted around and watched him walk away. "A mood?"

Swindle turned and walked backwards for a few seconds. "Just a bit," he said.

Prowl frowned. A mood? He was not in 'a mood,' he was perfectly level headed.

Nevermind the blushing and curt responses that he used to shield the emotions he was doing his best to ignore.

Swindle took off. Prowl was left alone with his thoughts.

Before he could get too far into his own dilemma, Prowl stood up and took off for the Ark.

* * *

Prowl had been interrogating Starscream for two hours and had gotten nothing but petty insults and off hand comments about the Autobot's base of operations.

"Such an ugly yellow," he grumbled for the fifth time. "Or is it orange."

Prowl scowled, the heel of his foot tapping restlessly on the floor. "Can we focus?" He said. "You realize we won't trade you back to Megatron until we get something useful out if you."

Prowl knew that this was hardly motivation, but he tried anyway.

Starscream smirked with half of his mouth showing teeth. "What an attractive prospect." He casually checked his claws. "Nearly as attractive as free information for a bit of companionship." He threw his slimy smirk at Prowl, but it did not entice any physical reaction.

Starscream seemed unphased by this. He lifted one brow, the corner of his mouth twitched. He slid his knee up and rested his elbow upon it. He smirked, placing his chin on his fist.

"Or no, that wasn't you, was it?"

Prowl scribbled a few random words onto his datapad. "You can't play your mind games with me, Starscream. We've been here long enough."

Starscream shrugged. "I don't have to play mind games with you, Prowl. I think you're playing enough with yourself." He pointed his finger and twirled it in circles. "There's a lot going on in that medium sized brain of yours."

Prowl's brow peaked with confused interest.

Starscream switched to sitting crossed legged. "What?" He smiled innocently. "You're not the smartest mech on the Ark. You're not even the smartest mech in this room."

Prowl took the opportunity when he saw it. "Then who is?"

Starscream was checking his talons. "Who is what?"

"The smartest Autobot in the Ark?"

Starscream paused. For a split second his expression was neutral before quietly slipping into a smirk. He held up one finger and moved it back and forth in time with, "ah, ah, ah," he chuckled, leaning his head against the wall. "You're not that slick, Prowler." His smirk widened. He tilted his head and put on a faux friendly tone. "Can I call you Prowler?"

Prowl's spark beat unsteadily, trying to force him out of the brig and back to safety.

But Prowl was in the middle of the game, and the score was neck and neck.

"You can call me whatever you want if it'll get you to talk."

"Or keep talking, right?" Starscream pretended to pluck things out of the air. "So you can pick apart every little thing that I say and over analyze it until you find something that could be of use." He leaned back against the wall. "You're very clever, Autobot, but also very transparent. You try to hide it behind that steely facade you always wear."

"And you attempt to mask ignorance with wit."

Starscream only chuckled. "Guilty."

Prowl frowned, genuinely cracking for the first time in those two hours. He pretended to write something else down on the datapad if only to collect himself, then put Starscream right back in the spotlight.

"What were you doing out there alone?" Prowl asked. "Do the Deceptions have an outpost or base of operations somewhere near where you were picked up? Or were you scoping out your next target."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of fun, Autobot?" He twirled his hand in the air. "I went out for a flight, that's all. Megatron didn't even know I was there."

Prowl clenched his jaw. For a split second he reconsidered what he was about to say. As soon as the split second passed he said. "I have it on good authority that you and Megatron, as well as other higher ups, were outside the base at the same time."

Starscream scoffed. "Good authority, yeah right." He grumbled, all semblance of a smile disappearing from his face. He stood up and sauntered to the front of the cell, taking hold of the bars and pulling us face between them. "Listen, Prowl, this was fun but I'm getting bored." He let his arms hang out of the bars and his wings flick high behind him. "So how about this. If I tell you what I was really doing out there then it'll get one of your precious Autobots in trouble." He smirked. "And if I tell Megatron what your precious Dedepticon is doing it will get him in trouble." His eyes squinted but the smile stayed on. "So how about we drop the whole thing, say I'm a lousy bastard who wouldn't say a word, and then haul me back to Megatron for proper punishment. Sound like a deal?"

Prowl's spark stung in his chest, his eye twitched. He looked at the datapad and pretended to write something down. "You're talking like a mad bot."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "You are so boring to play with," he grumbled. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Do I have to say it outright until you admit it?" Starscream grabbed the bars and shook them as he spoke. "I know about your little deal with Swindle." He leaned all the way back, hanging off the bars. "He's not as good at covering his tracks as he thinks he is, and neither are you."

Prowl shut down the datapad. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Starscream narrowed his eyes. For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. There was no smirk, no scowl. Just thought.

Something about it unnerved Prowl in a way Starscream had never unnerved him before.

"If you don't admit it," Starscream started slowly. "Then I'll tell Megatron about your little affair."

Prowl stared at his blank screen, weighing his options. If he admitted to what he was doing there was no guarantee that Starscream wouldn’t inform Megatron anyway. There was also the chance that Starscream didn’t know anything and he was just playing mind games like he always did, so the admittance would serve no purpose but to out both himself and Swindle.

For some reason Prowl’s fear was not losing his source of inside information, but potentially losing Swindle.

Starscream squatted down so he was almost level with Prowl.

“How about this, Prowl, I’ll tell you my secret if you tell me yours. Then we can both have dirt on eachother.”

Prowl narrowed his eyes. “Suddenly feel like talking?”

“Not about anything relevant.”

Prowl was about to pretend to write something down when he realized his datapad was off. He placed his pen on the screen and looked at Starscream.

“You realize I’m not that easy to crack. This isn’t an exchange, I’m not here to give you Autobot intel.”

“I don’t really care about Autobot intel, I just want to hear you say it.” Starscream squeezed the bars. “I want to hear you say that you, the oh-so mighty, the oh-so loyal and oh-so ridgid Prowl, has fallen in with a Decepticon.”

Prowl did not like being mocked. He also didn’t like being played with. But he could take it, as well as dish it, so he came back with. “I suppose I could get the same type of satisfaction from you.”

Starscream stood up. “Oh, no no no,” he put his hand on his chest. “I’m not ashamed of what I do.” He smirked “But I bet you are.”

“Where does your information come from?”

Starscream huffed through his nose. “Soundwave’s not the only one with eyes everywhere. Reflector happens to like me and my Seekers.”

Prowl narrowed his eyes. Starscream potentially had photos of Prowl and Swindle meeting and not killing each other. Not only Starscream, but all three components of Reflector. Prowl subtly swallowed the lump in his throat, keeping his face stony and his body lax. If he showed an ounce of weakness, Starscream would pounce on it, and as much as Prowl thought himself immune to Starscream’s silver tongue, he was touching on a topic that had a very close edge.

Prowl narrowed his eyes. "If you tell me which Autobot you're conspiring with, I will tell Optimus Prime regardless of the information you have on me."

Starscream's wing twitched. "Conspire is a funny word to use."

Prowl stood up. "You're a liar, Starscream." He put his datapad in his subspace and started to walk away. "I don't care what you tell Megatron."

That wasn't true. Prowl felt a tightness in his spark, something like fear. He hoped that if he ignored Starscream and didn't give into his manipulation, that Starscream would lose interest and get no pleasure from reporting Swindle's betrayal. There was no way to be sure of this, but if Prowl had calculated this right, they both would be out of trouble.

Prowl returned to Optimus Prime with a quick report that bared no fruit.

Prime held the report in both hands and sighed.

"I didn't expect much," Prime said. "But I didn't expect nothing."

"He's a stubborn mech," Prowl said. "We knew this going in."

Optimus handed the datapad back. "We will try again tomorrow."

Prowl furrowed his brow. "We're not giving him back?"

"The Deceptions have been quiet lately. We assume something big is on the horizon."

“Do we want to send Jazz in to do recon?”

Optimus turned away. “No no, we have Starscream,” he started to walk away. “No recon necessary.”

Prowl held his tongue, but he wanted to argue. The only thing that held him back with the potential information he would get out of Swindle when they released Starscream. Of course, that might not be for a week now, but information was information, so long as it didn’t show up after the fact, it remained useful. Swindle said they couldn’t go ahead with any plans until Starscream returned, which meant Prowl would have to arrange a rendezvous almost as soon as Starscream was released.

For the rest of the day Prowl worked in his room, deconstructing everything Starscream had said and trying not to think too hard about Swindle and what Starscream had said in relation to that. Part of Prowl considered asking if Swindle would be willing to change their rendezvous spot, but for some reason he didn’t want to change it. Despite knowing what he knew, Prowl wanted to keep their little place behind the waterfall.

Prowl had never thought about it like that.

Their little place behind the waterfall.

 _Their_ little place.

Prowl let out a long vent through his nose and reorganized the datapads on his desk. He didn’t want to think about Swindle, or the deal, or all of the conversations they’d had.

Fortunately a distraction was only a few seconds away.

An alarm burst through the Ark, throwing red light across the walls. Prowl was out of his seat and in the hallway within half a second. Autobots were racing towards the command center, some moving towards the brig. Jazz was in his ear.

Starscream had escaped.

The base was being searched, all entrances guarded. Prowl raced to the command center and demanded an update on the situation. Prime had yet to arrive.

“Cameras are down,” one Autobot explained. “Weapon systems are offline, we’re trying to restore power.”

“Has Starscream been located in the base?”

“No word yet.”

Prowl clenched his jaw. He narrowed his eyes, deep in his own thoughts. “I want every Autobot accounted for,” he demanded. “Right now.”

Reports flooded in, who was with who where, when and for how long. Who had seen who where, when, and for how long before Starscream’s escape. Prowl had a strange feeling in his gut that he couldn’t shake. One name came to mind, but he filed it away for later until he had the evidence he needed to bring it to the forefront.

When the crisis was averted and Starscream nowhere to be found, the emergency died down. It had been determined that Starscream had just escaped. Apparently the cameras in the brig had been placed on a loop almost two hours before the alarm went off. More digging uncovered that cameras all around the Ark had been placed on a loop both before and during the emergency. When asked for a status report on the state of the weapons systems, the report revealed that they had been offline four hours before the alarm went off, but had come back online every fifteen minutes two hours prior to the incident.

Now, normally Prowl would accept the fact that the prisoner had escaped and moved on.

But this situation felt different. Something about this felt fishy, wrong, as if it wasn’t a completely random event but a planned escape. But why would Starscream want to escape? Why would he go through the trouble of doing any of this? He knew that he would be out and back to the Decepticons in a matter of days, why take the risk?

Prowl spent an entire day looking through all of the evidence, trying to figure out how Starscream had managed to slip under all of their noses. How any and all activity had gone undetected until after Starscream was already gone.

Prowl wrote up a quick report of the incident and brought it to Prime in his office.

“I think someone released Starscream on purpose.” Prowl said as soon as he walked through the door.

Prime was at his desk doing work. “It’s Starscream,” Optimus said. “He’s sneaky, we know this. It’s an unfortunate loss.”

Prowl placed the datapad on the desk. “There’s a great deal of evidence that suggests this was an inside job.”

“More likely than not it was one of Soundwave’s spies.”

“I had Jazz comb the vents, there’s no evidence of forced entry--”

Prime put his pen down. “Prowl--”

“Why would Soundwave, or even Megatron, send for Starscream if they knew he would be getting out? What’s the point? Why waste the resources?”

“I’m telling you, they’re planning something big--”

Prowl nearly outed himself right then, tempted to tell Prime that he hadn’t heard of anything big from his contact in the Decepticons. Prowl stopped himself and instead said. “I have reason to believe there is someone within the Autobots working with Starscream.”

“What evidence--”

“Something Starscream said. He alluded to working with someone within our ranks.”

“Mind games.”

“I don’t think so.”

Prime furrowed his brow. He sighed. “Prowl, I’m worried about you.”

Prowl’s face fell. “What?”

“You’ve been acting behind my back, you’re erratic, almost obsessive--”

Prowl could hardly believe what he was hearing. Since when had a devotion to the cause he’d worked so hard for became something to be concerned about?

“I think you should take a break from your duties.”

Prowl’s spark became cold. “Optimus, you’re not listening to me--”

“Enough, Prowl.” Prime gathered the new report. “You’re suspended from your duties until further notice. Dismissed.”

“Prime--”

Prime raised his voice. “Dismissed.”

Prowl wanted to argue, but he knew it would get him nowhere. He huffed and stormed out of the office. Before he even made it to the safety of his room he whipped out the communicator and sent a message out to Swindle. It was obvious that Prime didn’t care what happened within ranks. Prowl was working with Swindle for the Autobots, who knew why the other guy was working with Starscream.

Swindle responded with nothing but a time of night.

Prowl couldn’t wait that long. He needed to remove himself from the Ark before the stupid orange walls made him rip his optics out. There was searing pain in his spark, but it wasn’t only anger that struck him. Pressure built behind his eyes, his fingertips felt numb. He went right to the exit and hit the road, driving like a mad man in a mad attempt to banish the pain.

As soon as he arrived at the spot he split the waterfall and passed into the hidden sanctuary.

“You seem to be in a mood.”

Prowl whipped around. Swindle’s silhouette was blurred by the mist of the waterfall.

“Should I come back later?"

Prowl rubbed his sore head with the tips of his fingers and squeezed his eyes closed. “No.”

Swindle stepped a few paces forward. When he spoke next his voice was surprisingly soft. “Hey Prowler, you seem in a bad way. You feeling alright?”

This is when Prowl exploded.

“No! No, I am not alright. I work my fragging aft off for these people and what does Optimus give me!? What!? Suddenly I’m unstable and obsessed, because I do my job a hundred times better than he does! This would have been over already! We would have been off--” He punched the wall with every word. “This stupid! mud ball! Planet! If he had just done something! Just done anything!”

Swindle nodded. “So this is about Oprimus, huh?”

Prowl huffed heavy vents. “Yes,” he spat. “This is about Oprimus.”

Swindle crossed his arms. “Alright, what about this time?” He made a ‘come here’ gesture with his hand. “Come on. Lay it on me. What’s the ingrate done now?”

Prowl scrubbed his face with both hands. “I can’t rattle on about Prime,” he grumbled into his palms. “I may accidentally, unconsciously reveal sensitive Autobot information.”

Swindle cocked a brow. “By complaining about your boss?”

Prowl tried to scowl but it came out more of a pout.

Swindle stepped forward. He was so close, Prowl could feel the warmth of his frame. It shielded him from the cool most of the waterfall, leaving nothing but Swindle. It were almost as if, by mere proximity, Swindle's presence made Prowl's entire world disappear.

Something about that was comforting.

As of all of a sudden, nothing else mattered.

"I'm sick of Prime," Prowl muttered. He surrendered to his own fatigue and carefully slipped to kneel on the floor. Swindle swiftly joined him. Prowl shook his head. "You were right--"

"Oo, I was right."

"They're screw ups. The both of them. I don't know who wins, no one wins! But the war doesn't end because those two idiots aren't even competent enough to get their paperwork in order. I don't even know what a war crime is anymore!"

Swindle tilted his head and rubbed circles in Prowl's back. Without even thinking, Prowl leaned against him. When he realized what he was doing, Prowl could not will himself to stop. The warmth of another's touch, and the comfort of another's presence, was far more comforting that the cold lonely walls of the Ark.

But things such as this could never last.

To spare himself the pain of letting go, Prowl decided to let go early. Before the moment had to end, he forced it.

Prowl sat up. He cleared his throat and did not look at Swindle, who's hand was still on Prowl's back.

To verify if the welcomed touch, Prowl stood up.

"We're business partners," he said, still unable to face him. "We should be doing business."

Prowl did not see Swindle's expression. He did not see him move. He only heard the shuffle of stone against metal as Swindle stood to join him.

"There's a raid," Swindle said.

"Where?"

"New Mexico. The seventh. The facility in your northwest district."

Prowl almost looked over his shoulder. His words caught in his throat but he said them anyway. "Will you be there?"

"No."

Prowl closed his eyes. "Okay."

Then Swindle left.

And Prowl was all alone.


End file.
